A GOOD APPETITE; A Purloined Fall Dessert Evolves Into a Favorite

By MELISSA CLARK

Published: October 17, 2007

ALL good cooks steal recipes. Be it ''my'' special chocolate birthday cake from Rose Levy Beranbaum's ''Cake Bible,'' or the much-heralded green tomato basil pie I clipped from some forgotten magazine so many years and so many potlucks ago, stealing -- or, let's say, borrowing -- is how good cooks build their repertories.

One recipe that has worked its way into my dessert rotation is Claudia Fleming's roasted chestnut honey pears. (Disclosure: I helped write her cookbook, ''The Last Course: The Desserts of Gramercy Tavern.'') No matter how many times I serve the thyme-scented caramelized fruit to the accolades of family and friends, I never quite remember to give credit where credit is due.

Over the years I have taken some liberties with the original formula. I can't help myself. Tweaking is part of my nature. And then there are the mistakes I've made that stuck because they made the pears even better, or easier.

For example, Ms. Fleming uses Italian chestnut honey, which I never seem to remember to pick up when I'm in a specialty store. So I substitute whatever honey I've got in the cupboards, usually orange blossom. It makes a subtler but no less delectable pear.

She also calls for adding honey and butter twice: first to simmer the pears in, and the second time to create a honey butter sauce. But one day when I was harried I accidentally threw everything into the pan at once. The pears came out sweeter and thoroughly candied, transforming from juicy fresh fruit into glowing amber jewels with a dense, toothsome texture. I've never gone back.

Usually when I make honey-glazed pears, I serve them with a slice of soft, homemade pound cake, which absorbs all the pear juices, becoming suffused with their perfume.

But recently I found myself with a load of Bosc pears, a dinner I needed a dessert for, and the itch to do something new-ish and a little fancier.

A pear tart, with glistening, shapely wedges of fruit, makes a much grander presentation than pound cake. I contemplated baking a mahogany tarte Tatin with a flaky puff pastry crust. But then I'd lose the supple, sponge-like cake factor, since a pastry crust doesn't absorb syrupy fruit juices as well.

I started thumbing through other dessert books, looking for a solution, when I hit upon a photo in Dorie Greenspan's ''Baking: From My Home to Yours.'' It is an almond-topped butter cake baked in a skillet, called Swedish visiting cake. It reminded me both of tarte Tatin, which is also often made in a skillet, and of my -- I mean Ms. Fleming's -- skillet-roasted pears.

What if I simply glazed the pears as usual with honey, thyme sprigs and butter, then poured the cake batter on top and baked the whole thing?

If I flipped it over for serving like an upside-down cake, shouldn't it emerge as golden as a pear tarte Tatin, but with a moist, cake-y layer that would be perfectly primed to sop up all the luscious pear drippings?

I mixed up the batter, tweaking as I went (replacing almond extract, which I abhor, with extra vanilla, which I adore), and poured it over a pan of roasted pears. Then I popped it back into the oven and hoped for the best.

An hour later, the cake unmolded just as I had imagined, with glossy, honey-gilded pears crowning the pale cake. The oohs and aahs commenced as soon as the cake hit the table, and continued until the last crumb was devoured.

Naturally, everyone asked where I got the recipe.

''Um, I stole it twice over,'' I reluctantly confessed.

But no one really cared. Just as long as I promised to make it again and again, my double-duty thievery was easily forgiven.

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a 9-inch ovenproof skillet (not nonstick), simmer honey until it begins to reduce, caramelize and darken in color, 6 to 10 minutes. Do not let honey burn; if it starts to smell burned, turn off heat.

2. Arrange pears, close together and cut-side down, in a circular pattern in skillet, stem ends pointing toward center. Simmer over medium heat, turning them from one cut side to the other, until they begin to turn golden, about 10 minutes.

3. Flip pears over to their curved side and scatter with thyme sprigs if using. Transfer skillet to oven and roast, uncovered, until very tender, about 25 minutes.

4. Meanwhile, in a large bowl, whisk together sugar and lemon zest. Whisk in eggs and vanilla. Fold in flour and salt; stir in 1/2 cup butter.

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a 9-inch ovenproof skillet (not nonstick), simmer honey until it begins to reduce, caramelize and darken in color, 6 to 10 minutes. Do not let honey burn; if it starts to smell burned, turn off heat.

2. Arrange pears, close together and cut-side down, in a circular pattern in skillet, stem ends pointing toward center. Simmer over medium heat, turning them from one cut side to the other, until they begin to turn golden, about 10 minutes.

3. Flip pears over to their curved side and scatter with thyme sprigs if using. Transfer skillet to oven and roast, uncovered, until very tender, about 25 minutes.

4. Meanwhile, in a large bowl, whisk together sugar and lemon zest. Whisk in eggs and vanilla. Fold in flour and salt; stir in 1/2 cup butter.